


In the Lap of the Gods

by last_system_lord



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Pre-Movies, Sarcophagus Addiction, UST, sarcophagus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 18:19:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4231959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/last_system_lord/pseuds/last_system_lord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caught in a collapsing Goa'uld complex, Sam is forced to take cover in a sarcophagus. Unfortunately, she isn't the only one seeking shelter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Lap of the Gods

Pieces of the roof rained down on her and Sam spun herself around, desperately searching for an exit. Smoke and dust obscured her vision and she knew she couldn’t head for the main entrance; it had been the first thing to collapse. It made the failsafe all the more effective, she supposed as she scrambled over a decorative pillar which now lay broken on the floor, if those who set it off had no hope of survival. At least the rest of her team had got clear.

There! A doorway, and still mostly intact.

Sam dived through it, rolling to break her fall, and found herself in yet another room of the compound. Panic threatened to break through and Sam forced herself to keep moving steadily. Was she closer to an exit now? Or should she retreat back out of the room?

Pain, sharp and insistent, opened up in her shoulder as the force of the blow drove her to her knees. A second, larger, chunk of the ceiling narrowly missed her head and Sam leapt back to her feet in a surge of adrenaline.

The shape in front of her loomed out of nowhere and Sam couldn’t stop in time. She tried to throw out her hands to break her fall, but only her right arm responded while pain throbbed in her left shoulder. Broken or dislocated, Sam knew it was unlikely to matter. She was trapped, no sign of an exit, nowhere to take cover.

She tried to push herself up with her good arm and realised what the large object was;

A sarcophagus.

Sam stared down at it. It would almost certainly survive the building’s implosion, but then what would she do? Would it be buried completely? Would she be able to get out? How much time did a sarcophagus need to poison her mind?

Sam opened it. One time in a sarcophagus wouldn’t do irreparable damage; refusing to use it definitely would.

The lid slid smoothly open and Sam vaulted over the side. The lid began to close again, slowly, and Sam allowed herself a small sigh of relief; she was going to survive, at least.

Her relief was short lived.

Something slammed into her, driving the breath from her lungs, and Sam’s head hit the floor of the sarcophagus.

________________________

White, obscuring everything, bright enough to force her eyes shut again.

Sam gasped, her jumbled thoughts dancing around her head.

A Goa’uld compound. Her team. Explosions; failsafe. Sarcophagus.

Sarcophagus, Sam’s mind crystallized around that thought; she had to get out of the sarcophagus.

She opened her eyes, cautiously, but thankfully the intense light had gone. However, as she became more aware Sam realised she was pinned down and her fear resurfaced. Had she miscalculated and the sarcophagus caved in on her?

No. She could see the lid just above her; intact. Some of the debris must have slipped through the lid as it closed. Sam lifted her head, trying to assess if she could move it enough to get out when the lid opened. The debris was a dark colour, black, unless her eyes hadn’t adjusted yet, which was weird given the sandy colour of the compound. In fact, it didn’t look like debris at all; it looked far more like…

A low muttered curse erupted from right next to her ear and Sam reflectively tried to flinch away as she recognised it as Goa’uld.

‘Who?’ The weight lifted slightly and Sam found herself looking into deep brown eyes as they glowered down at her. ‘Ah. I should have known. Well,’ Ba’al’s face broke out into a typical smirk, ‘this is _intimate_.’

‘Ba’al!’ Sam glared at the Goa’uld, wanting to move away but aware that she had nowhere to go. _Intimate_ was far more accurate then she would have liked; it was pretty clear that the sarcophagus had not been built for two people. ‘Open the damn lid!’

‘ _What?’_ Ba’al asked, forcefully, the smug look disappearing rapidly. He attempted to push himself off her, only to have his back hit the closed lid. He let out another string of Goa’uld curses.

Sam had a horrible sinking feeling. ‘Doesn’t it open automatically?’

‘It… should…’ Ba’al attempted to twist around and ended up ramming his shoulder into her arm.

‘Hey!’ Sam protested, then his words sunk in. Oh no. ‘What do you mean ‘it should’? What did you do to it?’

‘Me?’ asked Ba’al incredulously. ‘You Tau’ri blunder around setting off failsafes and then claim it was _my_ fault.’ Ba’al continued, voice dripping with contempt; ‘I _imagine_ the roof collapse has something to do with it.’

‘So it should have opened by now?’ asked Sam, seriously hoping this was a joke. She could _not_ be trapped in a sarcophagus with _Ba’al_.

‘Yes.’ Ba’al bit out the word, sounding about as pleased by the situation as she was.

‘Well can you get it open?’ Sam asked. For all her years in the SGC, she’d never really had the opportunity to sit down and study a sarcophagus, not least because the SGC had no use for one, but she could see that the inner lining of the lid was far too smooth to pry it open from the inside.

Ba’al, who had been attempting to study the wall, turned back to face her. Sam fervently wished she could put more than a couple of inches between their faces. ‘And how do you suggest I do that?’

Sam rolled her eyes. ‘It’s _your_ technology, you tell me!’

‘Perhaps if you hadn’t broken it…’ Ba’al trailed off, and sighed. ‘I need to reach _that_.’ He nodded his head to his left. ‘Which means _you_ are going to need to shift that way.’ Another nod to the left.

Sam just looked at him. What he was suggesting meant he would essentially be hugging her in order to get to whatever access panel was there, and that was absolutely unacceptable.

‘How about,’ Sam countered, ‘I roll _that_ way.’ Sam tried to lift an arm to point and found his arm was in the way, so just tilted her head to his right. ‘And you go _that_ way and get the damn thing open.’

‘Because there will not be enough room for me to work,’ said Ba’al, irritably. ‘It is hardly an ideal situation, but it is our _only_ option.’

‘Not a chance,’ Sam argued. ‘We’re doing this my way.'

Ba’al glared down at her, but Sam decided not to wait for the scathing response; she shuffled to the right, knocking into his arm and trying to roll so that they would be back to back. Instead, her shoulder slammed into his chest and she found herself uncomfortably wedged between him and the floor of the sarcophagus.

‘Ah yes,’ wheezed Ba’al, ‘I can see how your idea is helping.’

‘It would be fine,’ Sam snapped, refusing to give in. ‘If you would just _cooperate_.’

‘If I were to _cooperate_ ,’ Ba’al said, ‘I would find myself facing the _wrong way_.’

He was right. The problem, Sam reflected, was that while the sarcophagus was wide enough (probably) for them to end up back to back, it didn’t seem to be deep enough to make the manoeuvre possible.

Sam twisted herself back around so that they were back where they’d started; Ba’al lying on top of her. And there was something she’d never wanted to achieve.

‘Okay,’ said Sam, ‘I’m still going that way.’

‘I am telling you,’ Ba’al said, clearly exasperated. ‘If you do that, I will never end up facing the correct panel, you must move _left_.’

Sam paused and thought it through. ‘No, it should be possible. If you could just-’

‘Are you not listening to me?’ Ba’al refused to budge. ‘There is _not_ enough room.’

Yeah, she’d noticed that.

‘Maybe if you hadn’t jumped in an already occupied sarcophagus, then it would be _fine_.’ Sam held his angry gaze for a moment and then sighed. ‘Fine. On my count, one-‘

Ba’al rolled to the right, dragging her around to the left and Sam’s shoulder scrapped painfully against the lid of the sarcophagus. Sam lay on her left side, facing him, and scowled.

‘I said-‘

‘I heard what you said.’ Ba’al’s gaze was fixed over her shoulder, presumably at whatever panel he needed to remove. Not that Sam had ever noticed any internal panels in a sarcophagus, and actually, the side that she was facing was very smooth…

‘I can’t see any access panels,’ she commented.

Ba’al’s eyes refocused on her face. ‘That’s because there aren’t any.’

Oh boy.

‘Then how…?’

‘Do you have a knife?’ Ba’al looked at her expectantly.

Sam blinked. ‘Yes, don’t you?’

The answering smile held a tinge of irony. ‘It is in my boot.’

Of course it was. Sam grimaced. ‘Mine’s on my belt, _my_ left hand side.’

‘Excellent.’ Ba’al reached for it, so that their chests were pushed together, and Sam gritted her teeth as she felt him draw the knife. She’d be lucky if it didn’t end up in her back.

Sam was lying on his other arm, which she had no doubt was making thing really difficult in whatever it was Ba’al was trying to do. Probably wedge the knife into the one visible join, although exactly what he could achieve she really wasn’t sure.

Whatever it was, she sincerely wished he would hurry up about it. Sam had thought she’d been up close and personal with Goa’uld before, but this… her chin was pressed into his shoulder and frankly Sam wished he would wear something a little looser; the tight leather pants weren’t leaving a lot to her imagination. Ba’al’s shoulder jerked up abruptly and Sam copped a mouthful of leather.

‘Hey! Watch it!’

The reply was in Goa’uld and didn’t sound friendly.

Sam rolled her eyes and focused on the opposite side of the sarcophagus. It occurred to her that if Ba’al decided he wanted a change in host, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. She shuddered involuntarily and forced herself to take nice deep breathes. Deep breathes.

Speaking of which…

‘How much air do you think we have?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Ba’al said, his elbow digging into her side.

Hope flared. ‘Can you get it open?’

Sam felt his breath on her neck as he let out a low chuckle. ‘I meant; we are in a sarcophagus.’

Oh God, no.

‘No. That’s a terrible plan.’

‘I did not say it was a _plan_.’ His elbow dug further into her side. ‘It is, however, a fact.’

‘Great. So at least we’re not going to die,’ Sam said, mostly to remind herself that there was a silver lining.

Ba’al laughed, but it had a bitter edge to it. ‘Oh we might _die_ ; it just won’t be permanent.’

Sam really didn’t want to think about that. How damaged was the sarcophagus? Would it even activate? Honestly, Sam had assumed that as long as a sarcophagus was closed, it was active, which meant it was more than likely that this one was completely broken. Except her shoulder was healed, so it couldn’t be. But if it was activated by the lid closing then how would it activate again? Did she even want it to? She’d seen the damage it could do…

‘How about you get us out of here _before_ we suffocate.’

‘That _is_ actually the plan,’ Ba’al said into her ear, before letting out a soft growl of irritation. ‘You are in the way.’

‘Yeah, well, I _told you so_.’ Productive? Not really, but it made her feel slightly better. Ba’al’s chin hit the back of her head. ‘ _Ow_! Ba’al…’

His arm brushed her hair and she realised he was rubbing his chin. Sam told herself she would never, ever, complain about the lack of space in a cargo ship again.

‘Ah!’ said Ba’al triumphantly.

‘What?’ Sam tried to look over her shoulder, but couldn’t turn around enough to see. ‘Have you got it?’

‘I am… closer to opening it.’

There was something in Ba’al’s tone that Sam didn’t like. ‘What is it?’

He huffed out a frustrated sigh that tickled the side of her neck. ‘This is not an access panel, it is merely a joining seam. I have managed to wedge the knife in the seam, however…’ He paused. ‘The sarcophagus… It is not designed to be opened from the inside. This may not be possible.’

‘Okay,’ said Sam, even though it really, really wasn’t okay. It wasn’t okay at all. ‘Keep trying, but we should be rescued eventually, I’ll pretty sure my team escaped and they’ll be searching for me.’

‘Oh, excellent. Tau’ri to the rescue.’ He muttered something in Goa’uld _again_ and Sam wished she’d made the effort to pick up more than a few words.

She pulled a face and tried not to rest her chin on his shoulder. Where was she supposed to put her right hand anyway? On his hip? Not likely.

Extremely bright light assaulted her and Sam screwed her eyes shut. When she opened them the light was fading away again and she had the disturbing sensation of time having passed. To make things worse the lid remained firmly shut.

‘That’s… unfortunate,’ Ba’al commented, sounding almost worried.

Sam took that to be a bad sign. ‘What did you do?’

‘Nothing, which, incidentally, is the problem.’

Now Sam was certain of it; Ba’al sounded distinctly unsettled and she was starting to understand why. Or at least, why it was bad news for her, why he would care was beyond her.

‘Are you telling me this thing just activated _by itself_?’

‘Yes,’ said Ba’al tetchily.

‘Can you stop it from doing that again?’ asked Sam because it was bad enough that she’d been healed by the thing once and the chance that it would repeatedly activate spontaneously…

‘I am absolutely certain I could stop it from doing that again. Unfortunately, to achieve it I would need to cut the power entirely. If the significance of that has not penetrated your Tau’ri brain, it means there would be no power available to open the lid.’

Sam closed her eyes and counted slowly to ten. ‘Ba’al, you need to open this thing _before_ it does that again.’

‘Do not attempt to lecture me on my own technology, Samantha,’ Ba’al snapped and his knife must have slipped because his arm slammed into her ribs.

Whether it was his tone, or just the length of time she’d spent plastered up against him, Sam didn’t know, but her temper snapped. ‘That’s _Colonel_ , to you, Ba’al. And if you don’t get the lid open before it activates again, I’ll make _s_ _ure_ it needs to heal you!’

Her P90 was jammed between them and there was no practical way to use it, but Sam was confident she could draw and fire her hand gun. Of course, it probably wasn’t the wisest idea, since she doubted that a resurrected Ba’al would be in a particularly good mood.

‘I wonder, _colonel_ , are you always this unpleasant, or has the sarcophagus already begun to affect you?’

Sam ground her teeth. ‘Don’t joke about that. You might not care about it, but I can tell you that-‘

‘What makes you think I _don’t_ care about it?’ asked Ba’al and it was immediately clear from his tone that he’d taken offence. ‘I have no wish to become an illogical, addicted _idiot_ with-‘

‘Excuse me?’ Sam shot back incredulously. ‘I _know_ you have a sarcophagus and I _know_ you use it so don’t even try to lie to me.’

‘Of course I use it!’ Ba’al’s beard grazed against her cheek, as the muscles in his arm and shoulder tensed. Sam wished she could see what he was working on. ‘It would be ridiculous not to, you are simply… overcautious. There is no need to use it too regularly. This, however, is not _my_ sarcophagus.’

Sam really had no idea what he was trying to say. ‘Oh yeah, like there’s a difference.’

‘There _is_ a difference,’ Ba’al told her, in a maddeningly condescending tone. ‘You never thought that once we became aware of the negative effects, one of us might try to lessen them? My sarcophagus offers minimal effects to a Goa’uld, unless, of course, it is _overused_. ’

What he was saying actually made some sense, Sam had to admit, albeit reluctantly. Ba’al had proven himself to be somewhat different to the other Goa’uld they’d met, notably that he was able to actually work with them and adapt to new situations, rather than simply seeking power, power and more power. Not that he didn’t seek power at all, but just that he’d always seemed… more flexible.

There was one obviously, glaring hole in his explanation.

‘Yeah, right. You’re forgetting that I’ve seen the effects and once someone _is_ affected, they don’t try to fix it because they’ve stopped caring!’

‘And are these people, who you’ve seen affected, still using the sarcophagus?’ Ba’al inquired.

‘No, but _only_ because they were forcefully separated…’ Sam trailed off, thinking about the possibilities. ‘Did you go through sarcophagus withdrawal?’

‘That is what I said,’ Ba’al confirmed and again muttered something in Goa’uld, although whether it was aimed at her, his withdrawal, or their current situation Sam couldn’t begin to guess. ‘So you see I _do_ care,’ Ba’al continued in English. ‘Also with the Priors crawling all over the galaxy now is _not_ a good time to have my focus… impaired.’

Sam considered that good news, if he was telling the truth, but she was still stuck on his first statement;

‘Really?’ Sam pressed because, well, _really_? Sarcophagus withdrawal?

‘I cannot do this with one knife,’ Ba’al said, ignoring her question. ‘Do you have another?’

‘ _You_ went through sarcophagus withdrawal?’ Sam asked again, totally unsure how to react to that, if he wasn’t lying to her. He was probably lying to her. ‘When?’

Ba’al sucked in an irritated breath. ‘If you want me to open this, you will need to give me another knife.’

And _that_ was going to be an issue because…

‘I only had one,’ said Sam.

‘You…?’ Ba’al actually pulled back from her to assess her expression, although why he thought she would bother lying about it, Sam really didn’t know. ‘I see.’

He leaned forward again and Sam flinched back, involuntarily, but Ba’al’s eyebrows immediately shot up. Sam decided this was actually worse than the awkward hug; lying there, her left arm trapped under him and his right under her, and then having to look him in the face. Sam was almost convinced the situation couldn’t actually get worse, when:

‘I’m going to need the knife in my boot,’ said Ba’al.

‘No,’ Sam said flatly.

Ba’al ignored that. ‘It is in my left boot, I will not be able to reach it. You’re going to need to-‘

‘No. Don’t you dare,’ Sam warned.

Ba’al smirked and shuffled forward again so that they were chest to chest. Sam grimaced as his leg slide up the outside of her leg until it was resting on her hip.

This, Sam decided, was _not_ going in her mission report. She was glad Ba’al couldn’t see her blush.

‘Samantha,’ Ba’al said in an amused tone. ‘The knife.’

The knife. Right. It was going to take all her willpower not to stab him with it… assuming she could get to it in the first place.

An inch more depth to the sarcophagus and it would have made things much easier, as it was, Sam had to twist and wriggle to get her arm in a position to reach down towards his boot, grazing her shoulder against the lid of the sarcophagus in the process.

_Oh well_ , she thought sourly, _it’s not like it won’t heal._

Striving not to focus on the annoying fact that she was running her hand down Ba’al’s leg, Sam’s fingertips brushed the top of his boot. Gritting her teeth, Sam felt for the knife, but she just couldn’t quite reach.

‘I can’t reach it.’

Ba’al responded by hitching his leg up further and Sam wished she was somewhere else. _Anywhere_ else. Like in the Ori galaxy.

Except now she could actually reach into his boot and Sam felt around for the knife.

‘Other side,’ Ba’al told her, his tone poised precisely between exasperation and amusement.

Biting down hard on the inside of her cheek, Sam ran her hand around the inside of his boot, and her hand closed around the knife. ‘Got it.’

Thankfully, he moved his leg back down off her hip as Sam fought to manoeuvre her arm back into a position where she could actually hand it to him, or just stick it in his back, which was _definitely_ what she’d rather do.

Ba’al took it from her hand a little hastily, as if he knew what she was thinking. Sam heard it slither from the sheath and sincerely hoped it wasn’t about to end up in _her_ back.

‘Hmm,’ said Ba’al approvingly, as if _her_ knife had failed to pass his standards.

He set back to work, and Sam returned to staring at the blank wall and not concentrating on the Goa’uld pressed up against her. No, she was definitely not thinking about that. Nor how she could feel the muscles across his chest and shoulder flexing as he worked.

Sam shook her head to clear it and reflected that her own muscles were beginning to feel stiff, and that wasn’t the only problem. Healing powers of the sarcophagus aside, Sam was finding being immobile on her side extremely uncomfortable. Particularly with Ba’al lying on her arm.

‘Ba’al, my arm’s going numb.’

‘That is fascinating. Thank you for sharing.’ Ba’al’s acerbic reply was punctuated by a slight grunt as one of the knives slipped. His knee banged into hers.

Sam glared at the side of his head and managed to resist the urge to try and draw her gun. ‘Can you at least _try_ to put _less_ weight on my arm?’

‘No.’

Sam resolutely fixed her gaze over his shoulder and started thinking about Fibonacci numbers. It occurred to her that her grazed shoulder wasn’t hurting anymore, not even the dull ache she would have expected. Cold fingers walked down her spine.

‘Can this thing be on while we’re conscious? Or does it always have to be on full power?’

‘The latter, normally,’ Ba’al said, but Sam didn’t like his choice of phrase.

‘ _Normally_?’ she asked. ‘What about now?’

‘Now it is most definitely malfunctioning; it appears to be running at extremely low power somewhat constantly, which is why, in case you were wondering, we have light. I believe that what we experienced earlier was a power spike,’ Ba’al theorised and Sam wondered exactly when he’d figured _that_ out.

She could hear her heart thudding in her chest. ‘Turn it off, _now_.’

‘Do not yell in my ear.’ There was a sound like fingernails on the blackboard and Sam winced, once again wishing she could see what he was doing. Ba’al continued; ‘I thought I had made it clear; I can only turn it off by breaking it and then we will both die.’ He adopted a falsely cheerful tone; ‘Fortunately this does mean that we will not suffocate at all.’

‘No,’ ground out Sam, ‘we’ll just go mad quicker. I thought you didn’t want to get addicted!’

‘I do not, but I would rather that then death. Wouldn’t you?’

Sam huffed out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. Would she? That depended on how long a sarcophagus needed to cause permanent damage. One thing she was certain of was that she’d feel the effects before Ba’al did; she was sure that, even on an unmodified sarcophagus, the Goa’uld symbiote could moderate the effects to some extent.

Maybe that was why he cared less. Or maybe, Sam thought bitterly, it was just because he was a Goa’uld and didn’t particularly care if he became a little more power hungry.

‘Regrettably,’ Ba’al said suddenly, ‘this does imply that we are not experiencing significant power failure; it is far more likely the sarcophagus cannot open because it is being physically impeded.’

A mental image of the sarcophagus, blocked in on all sides by rubble, flashed across Sam’s mind. Not good.

‘So where does that leave us?’

‘I would say it lowers my chance of success to around one in a thousand and our chances of survival to much less. To try and overcome this I will need to get more power to the mechanism.’

‘You’re going to overload it,’ Sam summarised, doubts swirling around her head. It sounded like essentially what he wanted to do was blast open the lid, with them inside. ‘It that a good idea?’

‘Not at all,’ Ba’al replied in a wry tone. ‘But as our options are either attempt it, or, as you so eloquently put it, go mad…’

‘Right.’ Sam reached out and ran her hand over the seam on the side in front of her, actually feeling a little relieved. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘To help? No. However… you can tell me; when we get out here would you rather serve as my queen or will I have to make you a slave?’ Ba’al’s tone was so casual that it took a second for his words to sink in.

As soon as they did, Sam tried to jerk away from him, causing Ba’al to let out a small rumble of protest as she upset his attempts to open the lid. Sam didn’t rightly care.

‘ _What_ did you say?!’

‘You did not think I would just allow you to walk away?’ Ba’al chuckled. ‘My, my Samantha, you underestimate your value.’

‘ _You_ can’t seriously think I’ll go with you?’ asked Sam, outraged. ‘I’m armed and if you think for one second that you could successfully drag me to the Stargate-‘

‘Dragging you would be both tedious and unnecessary,’ Ba’al interrupted, ‘particularly as I am certain the planet will be crawling with Tau’ri by now in their attempts to recover you. I have an Al’kesh in orbit.’

‘No you don’t,’ Sam scoffed. ‘Your Jaffa would have beamed us up by now _and_ got this thing open… unless they abandoned you again.’

‘Hmm, he told me about that,’ said Ba’al darkly. ‘The Jaffa were punished accordingly.’

‘What are you talking about? That clone _died_.’

‘Actually, he was stunned,’ Ba’al corrected. ‘Not that you bothered to check. But these Jaffa will not abandon me, they serve me freely, as their leader, not their God. And you are right, of course, the Al’kesh is not yet in orbit, but it will be, as soon as my Jaffa have carried out the task I have set them.’

Sam attempted to pick her way through his statements to find the truth of the situation. ‘You told your Jaffa you weren’t a god?’

Ba’al sighed. ‘The more loyal among them, yes. Had I promised them their freedom sooner, perhaps I could have consolidated my position in this galaxy…’ Ba’al shrugged. ‘No matter.’

Sam frowned and then dismissed his claim as unimportant, for the moment. The chances of him having an Al’kesh in the vicinity were high, mostly because she doubted he’d have come through the gate alone, but it raised a new question:

‘What task? What are you doing in this solar system, there’s pretty much nothing here!’

Although there were a few stars relatively close, Sam knew they were on the only inhabitable planet nearby.

‘Nothing you would be interested in,’ said Ba’al, dismissively. ‘You still haven’t answered my question.’

‘Your question doesn’t _deserve_ an answer,’ Sam snapped. ‘Under _no_ circumstances will I be going onto your Al’kesh.’

‘Hmm, we will have to see about-’ A bright flash of light cut Ba’al off and Sam once again had the feeling of passed time.

Feeling returned to the arm Ba’al was lying on and Sam wondered how she’d know if she was being affected. How long had it taken to change Daniel?

‘-that,’ Ba’al finished before grumbling; ‘I was hoping it would do that less regularly.’

She’d been hoping pretty much the same thing. ‘How long are we unconscious when that happens?’

Ba’al seemed to ponder that for a moment. ‘No more than a few minutes, if we are lucky.’

Sam decided she’d rather not know the time scale if they were _un_ lucky. Surely it couldn’t be too long, or the SGC would have already found them. The Odyssey was in orbit around Earth, so Sam estimated it would take a few days to reach the planet, but then, they wouldn’t have dispatched it immediately, not before a ground search had come up empty.

It was entirely possible Ba’al’s Al’kesh would arrive first. _And_ he had beaming technology.

‘Oof,’ gasped Sam as Ba’al’s elbow hammered into her side.

Ba’al cursed loudly in her ear.

‘What?’ Sam asked him, only to be blinded by the white light yet again.

‘Ridiculous!’ snarled Ba’al, once it had subsided. ‘Pathetic, pointless excuse to… I could have healed that _myself_.’

‘You cut your hand open.’ Sam said it as a statement, rather than a question.

‘Clearly a severe enough injury will cause it to spike. _Not_ that a simple cut would ever warrant a sarcophagus,’ muttered Ba’al venomously.

‘I guess shooting you is out of the question then,’ Sam said regretfully.

‘Shooting me should never have been _in_ the question,’ returned Ba’al, sounding surprisingly unruffled. ‘Might I remind you that I am armed?’

Sam didn’t need reminding; she’d given him both knives, after all. ‘Shooting you was in the question ever since you suggested making me a _slave_.’

‘You would make a far better queen,’ Ba’al whispered, directly into her ear. ‘I _did_ give you the option.’

Sam shivered. ‘I would _never_ let you put a snake in my head, Ba’al.’

The experience had been disturbing enough with Jolinar, and Sam was certain it would be far worse with a Goa’uld. The things she would have to watch herself do… she didn’t envy Vala.

‘I didn’t mean as a _host_ , Samantha.’ Ba’al sounded amused. ‘You are perfectly fit to be my queen exactly as you are.’

Confusion warred with irritation and Sam was glad he didn’t know she’d briefly felt _flattered_ by the admission.

‘I’m surprised I meet your standards,’ she sneered into his shoulder. ‘Wouldn’t you find it humiliating to have a mere Tau’ri female as your Queen?’

‘Not at all, my dear,’ said Ba’al silkily. ‘Does that mean you agree to be my queen?’

‘ _Ba’al_ -‘

‘Fine,’ Ba’al shifted against her. ‘A slave it is. Pity.’

Rolling her eyes, Sam gave up holding her arm up and let it rest on his shoulder blade. She wished she had just a little more room, so that she could stretch out her muscles, just a little. The sarcophagus did seem to keep them from seizing up entirely, but Sam wanted to be certain that she would be able to move quickly if, _when_ , Ba’al got the sarcophagus open.

She had no intention of becoming his slave.

If she could move fast enough, Sam thought she would have a chance to put enough distance between them to either turn and shoot him, or just escape. Turning and shooting him would be the better option, since the chances of him causes the SGC more problems in the future was extremely high. Then again, she knew killing this clone might not change that. Assuming, of course, that he was a clone.

‘So,’ Sam said, mostly just to alleviate the worst of the boredom. ‘Are you the original Ba’al?’

Ba’al chuckled. ‘And if I say yes, are you likely to believe me?’

‘No,’ she admitted, ‘but you could try.’

‘I could,’ Ba’al agreed, as Sam heard the scrape of metal on metal. ‘However, it seems a little pointless, seeing as we are all the same.’

‘Oh, so you’re a clone,’ Sam pressed, sensing a possible sore point. ‘I mean the original would surely argue that he was unique.’

Ba’al laughed again and Sam could feel it rumble through his chest. ‘If I wished to be unique, Samantha, I would not have cloned myself.’

That point, Sam had to concede.

It was annoying having no idea if Ba’al was actually making any progress, or if it was even possible for him to succeed, but the main thought that kept swirling around her head was; what if Ba’al’s Jaffa recovered them instead of the SGC?

It was an all too possible scenario.

Sam knew where that would leave her, because Ba’al had made it clear. Except she was nobody’s slave. It was becoming increasingly clear to her that she would have to plan for the worst, but what plans could she make?

If being a slave was out of the question – which it undeniably was – then Ba’al had _given_ her another option. Not an ideal option, by her standards, but Sam did have to admit that she would rather be a queen then a slave. As Ba’al’s queen she would presumably be given an illusion of power, and that would give her far more opportunities for escape than the life of a slave.

‘I did not notice any of your Tau’ri ships in the area,’ Ba’al commented as he worked. ‘I assume you did arrive via the Chappa’ai?’

Sam smiled to herself; she wasn’t the only one thinking through escape plans.

‘That’s right, although it shouldn’t take them too long to dispatch one to find me. But don’t worry; we don’t keep slaves.’ Sam chewed her lip and decided to plough on ahead. ‘Speaking of which…’

‘Yes?’ asked Ba’al, and there was something in his tone that Sam couldn’t quite place.

‘If, _if_ , your Jaffa manage to find us before my people… I don’t want to be a slave. It’s possible, that we _might_ be able to come to another arrangement.’ Sam winced at her own words.

‘Ah, you have seen reason. However… you’ve made your feelings abundantly clear.’ Ba’al paused, for effect, Sam was sure. ‘It may be easier simply to make you a slave. After all, a God should have a suitable queen, namely one who is not plotting escape to her Tau’ri homeworld.’

Sam tried to shift position and ended up banging her head against his.

‘If you were to keep still it would be far more convenient,’ complained Ba’al dryly.

‘If you were actually able to offer me something other than a glorified slave, I might be a more _suitable_ Queen,’ Sam rebutted and then bit the inside of her cheek, hard. That was _not_ what she’d meant to say.

‘Oh I agree,’ Ba’al said, to Sam’s surprise. ‘Sadly, I fear that you are to… conventional and… stuck in your ways to truly listen to anything I may offer you.’

He _had_ to be kidding. To call _her_ set in her ways, after everything she’d adapted to since they’d found the Stargate!

‘Oh yeah? Try me.’

‘Hmm.’ Ba’al leaned further into her, presumably to get leverage, and Sam ground her teeth together. ‘I’m sure it has not occurred to you that you come serve the galaxy far better as my queen than you can working with such limited resources.’

Sam snorted derisively.

‘That is what I thought.’ Ba’al sniffed. ‘Far too stuck in your ways to even hear me out.'

The bright flare of the sarcophagus delayed Sam’s response.

‘How about,’ Sam suggested, blinking to clear her vision. ‘I hear you out, and you work _faster_.’

Ba’al nodded. ‘That may be best.’ His shoulder muscles tensed, and then relaxed again. ‘As I was saying, you could do far more for the galaxy by my side. For one, we could use our combined to finally rid the galaxy of these Priors. They are truly a menace, undoing years of hard work.’

Privately, Sam thought the alliance between Earth, the Tok’ra and the Jaffa had finished off the Goa’uld long before the Priors began to spread Origin. But it was just like Ba’al to invent his own version of history.

‘Are you saying you’d actually listen to me, because past experience-‘

‘Past experience,’ Ba’al interrupted, ‘has proven that we are quite capable of working together.’

It had and as much as Sam wanted to dismiss his offer out of hand… he’d somehow managed to come up with a valid point. Even with the fate of the Ori themselves in doubt, the Priors and their followers had been spreading through the galaxy like a plague and Sam was beginning to think that she needed a new perspective on the problem. She had no doubt that Ba’al’s perspective would be different.

And maybe there was something else she could keep in mind. If she accepted his offer, she would be in a better position to prevent him from doing anything too drastic, like wiping out most of the life in the galaxy.

Sam shook her head. It was a hopeless plan… wasn’t it?

‘ _If_ your Jaffa arrive first… I will _consider_ it,’ Sam allowed.

‘There is hope for you yet,’ Ba’al replied in a falsely serious tone.

Sam rested her chin on his shoulder and wondered how the hell she would manage to adjust to life as Ba’al’s queen. She could hardly expect him to stop using slaves, so she’d have to come to terms with having them around, and the Jaffa… well that wouldn’t be too hard to adjust too, not if Ba’al had actually told them he wasn’t a god.

Of course, anything she came up with would have to be vetoed by Ba’al. Yet… Sam gave a mental shrug; chances were Ba’al would be far more flexible than the IOA _and_ would come to a decision without have to ponder it for a month or two.

Yes, Sam thought, she’d have far more leeway working with Ba’al then she had at the SGC. He was probably right about having more resources too, although she knew he’d lost a lot ships between Anubis, the Free Jaffa Nation and the Ori. Not to mention the SGC.

Absently, Sam wondered if Ba’al now had the Goa’uld flagship. Larger than Ha’tak, and apparently only used by whichever Goa’uld was on top at any point in the ongoing power struggle, Sam had never had a good look at the mechanics of one.

Also… she had to admit she liked the idea of standing on the flagship, looking out over the universe…

‘I have identified a _possible_ way to open the lid,’ Ba’al announced. ‘However, I think it is far more likely that I will cause an overload that we will not survive.’

Sam chewed her lip. Honestly, she’d like nothing more than to get out of the confines of the sarcophagus, on the other hand she didn’t want to die and if Ba’al thought that was _more_ likely… Well, Sam had to ask herself whether it would be premature to rush into the first solution that presented itself.

‘Do you think you’ll be able to find a less risky option?’ she asked.

Ba’al paused. ‘It’s possible.’

Sam nodded. ‘So keep trying for the moment, I mean, it’s pretty stuffy in here, but we’re at least _safe_. Relatively speaking.’

‘Relatively speaking,’ Ba’al agreed, in a curiously flat tone, then added; ‘I will attempt to find a better option.’

Bright light blinded them once again and Sam sighed. She really wished it would stop doing that; it was damned disorientating.

At least Ba’al had found a way to open it, so Sam was sure they’d get out soon. She found she was looking forward to hearing about his plans to chase out the Priors _and_ to have the opportunity to study Goa’uld technology with an actual Goa’uld there to explain it to her. Sam smiled to herself; her life was certainly about to take an interesting turn.

Assuming the Odyssey didn’t beam up the sarcophagus first. Sam thought that unlikely, though, since Ba’al’s Al’kesh was closer. No, the main obstacle that would prevent her from joining him was if Ba’al did succeed in opening the sarcophagus _before_ the Al’kesh arrived. Even if the SGC search teams hadn’t stumbled on the sarcophagus yet, blowing open the lid would bring them running from all directions.

Of course, surprise at seeing her and a Goa’uld System Lord emerge from a sarcophagus might just give her and Ba’al the edge they needed.

‘Once you open it, we’re going to have to move quickly to dodge the search teams,’ Sam informed him.

‘Pardon?’ asked Ba’al, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard.

He must have misheard her, Sam decided.

‘The SGC search teams,’ she clarified. ‘We’ll have to dodge around them and take cover until your Al’kesh arrives. In case we encounter resistance, you can borrow my handgun and I’ll keep the P90.’

‘I have a kara kesh,’ Ba’al said mildly.

Ribbon device, Sam automatically translated. ‘Sure, but the handgun might prove more efficient.’ Sam reviewed what she’d said. ‘Oh, and non-lethal shots only.’

‘Oh definitely.’ Ba’al pulled his arm back towards them and Sam heard a knife slide back into its case. ‘I believe I may have the solution, but you are going to need to take this knife and insert it into the seam in front of you.’

Sam shuffled back from him, so that Ba’al had enough room to offer her the sheathed knife. _His_ sheathed knife, not that it mattered, but Sam had been hoping to get hers back. She took it off him and looked at Ba’al for instructions.

He quirked an eyebrow. ‘You will need to insert it approximately three-quarters of the way up the join.’

Okay, Sam thought, she could do that. Leaning back into Ba’al she unsheathed the knife and ran it up the seam and tried to wedge it in. The seam remained firmly closed.

‘You may need to put some force into it,’ Ba’al added, unhelpfully.

Getting enough force on it, when she was lying on her side pressed up against Ba’al, who was lying on her other arm, was no easy task. Sam pressed harder, leaning as much of her weight as she could manage on to the knife… and it slide in. Sam’s elbow thudded down onto Ba’al’s ribs.

‘Got it,’ Sam announced.

‘Yes,’ Ba’al muttered darkly. ‘I noticed that. Now you will need to angle the tip of the knife down, sharply, do not move the hilt too far down or you will likely blow us up.’

_No pressure_ , Sam thought.

‘Okay, here goes.’ She tilted the knife down in one smooth movement… and was plunged into total darkness. ‘Um… Ba’al?’

‘Admittedly, that was not supposed to happen.’ Ba’al leaned harder against her and Sam heard a scrap of metal on metal, but nothing changed. Ba’al sighed. ‘ _Now_ we are in danger of suffocating.’

Sam pressed down on the knife hilt, hoping against hope that it would fix whatever they’d done. It didn’t, and Sam felt rising panic. ‘Do we have _any_ power?’

‘I have no idea,’ Ba’al replied tersely. ‘Certainly none of it is getting to the main systems.’

Frustration gripped her and Sam complained; ‘If you didn’t know that was going to work, we could have _waited_.’

‘We _could_ have,’ Ba’al agreed and Sam expected him to give a reason, but he just fell silent.

Great. She would have to convince him to share more information, if she was going to be his queen. The thought strengthened Sam’s resolve; she would get out of the sarcophagus and she _would_ rule at his side.

‘We need to restore power,’ she declared.

‘That is what I am _trying_ to do,’ Ba’al returned, his movements becoming increasingly harried.

‘Try harder!’ Sam ordered. She was _not_ going to suffocate.

‘Just because you were not skilled enough to perform a relatively simple task is no reason to-‘

Bright light engulfed them, but it was different, somehow less intense and far more familiar…

‘Was that a transport beam?’ Sam asked, thinking; _please, not the Odyssey_.

‘Yes,’ Ba’al confirmed in a cautiously optimistic tone, as the sarcophagus almost seemed to shudder.

Light emerged from a different source, a line of it above them and relief surged through her as Sam realised that, slowly, haltingly, but surely, the lid was opening. It opened a few inches and then ground to a halt.

Ba’al let out a double-toned grumble of irritation and reached up to force it open the rest of the way. Sam scrambled to help, looking up into freedom… and recoiled as a face peered in at her. A face with a tattoo of Ba’al’s symbol on his forehead.

‘ _Get this thing open_ ,’ Ba’al snarled at his Jaffa and immediately the lid started to move again.

Sam huffed out a pent up breath. Ba’al’s Al’kesh had arrived first; she wouldn’t have to worry about dodging her own people to join him.

Ba’al started climbing out before the lid was all the way open and Sam found herself missing his warmth.

‘My lord,’ said the Jaffa. ‘Should I break orbit?’

‘Not yet. Are we cloaked?’ Ba’al started dusting himself off, and ignored Sam as she quickly sat up and jumped out as if the sarcophagus might suddenly snap shut again.

‘Yes, my lord,’ repeated the Jaffa. ‘The planet is crawling with Tau’ri.’

‘Good,’ said Ba’al, straightening his leather jacket. ‘I trust you completed your task?’

‘Yes, my lord,’ the Jaffa repeated. ‘It is-‘

‘You may leave us,’ Ba’al swiftly interrupted, making a dismissive gesture.

The Jaffa’s eyes moved between Ba’al and Sam curiously, but he merely gave a small bow and left the room.

Sam watched as Ba’al paced around the sarcophagus, examining the outer damage. It was, Sam observed, definitely dented, to the extent where she was surprised it had been operational at all.

‘I’m afraid I lied,’ Ba’al admitted, stopping in front of her. ‘Although it was not my sarcophagus, I was hoping to acquire it, and had already begun the necessary modifications. I was, however, forced to abandon my efforts and take cover when your team arrived.’ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Therefore, I am not yet addicted. You, however, most certainly _are_.’

Addicted? Sam frowned. Yes, she supposed she was; she’d spent more than enough time in it after all, but surely he wouldn’t make her go through withdrawal, would he?

‘I can use your sarcophagus to avoid the withdrawal, can’t I?’ she asked, chewing on her lip. Maybe Ba’al didn’t actually have one; maybe that was the problem. It wasn’t too seriously a problem though, she thought, letting her eyes drop down to Ra’s sarcophagus. ‘Or this one, when you’ve repaired it.’

Ba’al’s eyes danced with amusement. ‘I thought you might say something like that.’

Sam’s gaze dropped back to the sarcophagus. Despite the damage, it _had_ been working, before Ba’al had stuck a knife in it, anyway.

‘You _can_ fix it, right?’

‘Absolutely.’ Ba’al smirked. ‘In the meantime, Samantha; those clothes belong to a Tau’ri… perhaps we can find something more fitting for a queen.’

Ba’al led her to a small room, and perused what had to be the Goa’uld equivalent of a wardrobe.

‘Ah. You shall wear this.’ Ba’al handed her the clothes and smirked.

Sam hesitated, modesty preventing her from trying it on in front of him. ‘Your queen would like some privacy.’

Ba’al’s eyebrows shot up, but he inclined his head in agreement. ‘Very well.’

As he left her to get dressed, Sam examined what he’d given her. It wasn’t anything like she’d ever worn on Earth; that was for sure.

The outfit Ba’al provided for her was predictably revealing, but that didn’t stop Sam from putting it on. Ba’al was right, after all; if she was going to be his Queen then she needed to look the part. As Sam admired herself in the mirror she thought that the Goa’uld fashion sense suited her, she was sure Ba’al would think so too.

With one last glance towards the mirror, Sam held her head high and strode out to where Ba’al was waiting.

He sat on his throne, looking the part of the God he had played for so long and watched her approach. Sam stopped in the middle of the room, to model the outfit.

Ba’al’s gaze raked over her body and Sam stepped closer… just as his expression levelled off to a calculated stare.

‘Regrettably, my love, your presence will undoubtedly interfere with my plans.’ Ba’al sighed and shook his head. ‘You would be… a liability.’

‘A liability?’ Sam asked. What was he telling her? He’d promised she would be his queen!

‘A shame, but true…’ Ba’al shrugged. ‘In different circumstances, I may have allowed you to stay.’ He grinned. ‘You look beautiful in that dress, Samantha. A true queen.’

Allowed her to stay? Surely he wasn’t kicking her off the ship! The dress _did_ suit her and Sam couldn’t see any reason why she couldn’t stay with him. They’d discussed it; she was to be his queen and together they would see off the Ori invasion!

‘Wait-‘ she tried to argue as Ba’al touched a button on the arm of his throne, but she was too late and the world dissolved into the blue of beam transport.

_______________________

‘Sam!’ It was Daniel, running towards her and Sam had to curb the urge to run in the opposite direction. There was no point hiding, no way to get back to the Al’kesh, not unless Ba’al changed his mind and Sam couldn’t see that happening any time soon. A liability indeed! He must have thought allowing her to stay would make the SGC hunt him, but they hadn’t even known he was there!

‘Sam!’ Daniel stopped in front of her, his relief clearly giving way to puzzlement. ‘Sam? Where have you been? We’ve been looking for you for the past two days, we thought you’d been caught in the collapse.’

‘I was,’ Sam admitted, weighing up her chances of getting through the gate and finding herself a sarcophagus or a way back to Ba’al. Too slim; she decided would need to enlist Daniel’s help. ‘I couldn’t get out in time, but there was a sarcophagus and I hid in it.’

‘A _sarcophagus_ ,’ Daniel stared at her, alarmed. ‘But… where have you been for the last two days?’

Sam scowled; wasn’t he listening to her? ‘In the sarcophagus; it wouldn’t open. Listen, to avoid the withdrawal I’m going to need to keep using it.’ She held up a hand when Daniel’s eyes went as wide as saucers. ‘No, it’s okay, it’s not as bad as I thought but I really need to get back to the Al’kesh so I can convince him I’m not a liability.’

Daniel blinked. ‘Him?’

‘Ba’al,’ Sam clarified. ‘I know it sounds a bit crazy, Daniel, but he’d agreed that we could work together to defeat the Ori.’

‘Ok-ay.’ Daniel put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Well, guess what; you’re in luck. We, uh, recently got news that might lead us to a sarcophagus, so if you come back to the SGC with us we can avoid that withdrawal, no problem.’

Sam squinted suspiciously at him. Did he really understand? She wouldn’t have thought it was likely since they all had an unhealthy suspicion of the sarcophagus, when Ba’al was right and it was perfectly okay to use it. Yet… Daniel had used one. If anyone would understand, it would be Daniel.

There was another thing to think about, one that made her hesitate. They might let her use a sarcophagus, but they would never let her return to Ba’al. To rule as his queen, she would have to escape the SGC. The sarcophagus came first though, so Sam nodded at Daniel.

‘You’ll convince the others, won’t you?’ Sam asked.

‘Sure,’ Daniel agreed, steering her back towards the Stargate. ‘I’ll make them understand.’ He reached for his radio. ‘It’s Daniel, I’ve found Sam, she’s… she’s _fine_. I’m taking her to the gate.’

Sam walked proudly next to Daniel as they approached the Stargate, with Teal’c standing next to the DHD.

‘Daniel Jackson?’ Teal’c asked a little wearily.

‘Sam’s been in a sarcophagus.’ Daniel turned so that he was facing away from her. ‘I’m just getting her back to the SGC so that we can locate _that_ _other one_ for her to avoid the withdrawal.’

Teal’c paused and Sam started to catch on that something was wrong. ‘I see. I will join you, Colonel Reynolds can bring in our search teams.’

Understanding dawned on Sam and she backed away from the Stargate. ‘Actually, Daniel, I think I’m fine. Why don’t we start exploring the ruins? We could have missed some important technology.’

‘I am sorry, Colonel Carter.’ Teal’c’s hand fastened around her arm and Sam found she couldn’t tug loose.

Daniel started dialling the Stargate.

‘No!’ Sam argued. ‘No! I have to stay here! I have to…’

She had to get back to Ba’al and take her place as queen. She couldn’t say that to Daniel or Teal’c though, they’d never understand. Fighting did nothing against Teal’c and Sam found herself propelled through the Stargate.

_______________________

Sam woke in the infirmary with Daniel peering down at her, cautiously.

‘Daniel?’ Sam asked, confused. What day was it? Why did she feel like she’d been home a while?

‘Hey, you’re awake. Uh, how are you feeling? Carolyn said your brain chemistry was pretty much back to normal…’

Her brain chemistry? Sam opened her mouth to ask… and shut it again as the memories came flooding back. The sarcophagus. Ba’al.

The withdrawal.

She’d watched Daniel go through it, she’d seen Jack go through it. Experiencing it had been something else entirely. She’d yelled and screamed and raged at everyone and everything. She’d begged them to take her back to the planet, to get her a sarcophagus and – Sam winced – to contact Ba’al.

Sam folded her hands in her lap, ashamed.

Daniel put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Hey, it’s okay. I, uh, I’ve been there, remember.’

Sam covered his hand with hers, grateful for the support. ‘Yeah, Daniel, thanks.’

Wow, Sam thought, was that her voice? It sounded like sandpaper.

‘Carolyn ended up using some pretty strong drugs on you,’ Daniel told her. ‘So if you’re feeling a bit… vague…’

‘A little,’ Sam admitted. She bit the inside of her cheek. ‘Um… Daniel… what did I say to you guys?’

Daniel winced. ‘Lots of things, but we all knew it was sarcophagus talking. It’s just that… you might be asked to explain a few things, once you’re up to it of course. Like where the sarcophagus went.’

‘Ba’al beamed it up,’ Sam muttered, relieved that Daniel chose not to elaborate on ‘lots of things’.

Daniel stared at her. ‘Ba’al was actually there?’

‘Yeah, he was, um…’ Sam twisted her hand in the sheet.

‘We thought he might have been,’ Daniel told her, ‘given what you were wearing.’

What she was…? Belatedly, Sam remembered the dress. Oh boy.

‘Hey, don’t worry about it,’ Daniel said hurriedly. ‘Save it for the debrief. Just concentrate of getting better, okay?’

Sam offered a shaky smile. ‘Okay.’

‘I better get Carolyn,’ Daniel said, smiling back. ‘She’ll skin me if I don’t let her know you’re awake. I’ll be right back.’

He hurried off and Sam stared at her hands. She’d contemplated leaving _everything_ for _Ba’al_ and he’d known exactly how badly effected she was, of that Sam was sure. Hindsight was twenty-twenty, but Sam could now see what he’d been doing with crystal clarity. He’d questioned her about being his queen because he’d wanted to _hear her responses_ , not because he’d actually being trying to convince her. That first question, queen or slave; like a true scientist, Ba’al had been trying to get a baseline. Irritation prickled across her skin; how had she not seen it? Although…

Sam remembered what he’d said; _In different circumstances, I may have allowed you to stay._

She wondered if circumstances _had_ been different whether he would have gone through with it, and kept her with him as a sarcophagus addled queen. Maybe, maybe not. With Ba’al, it was hard to tell. It was possible he would have considered such a queen inferior; only the best for Lord Ba’al.

But if he had… would she have stayed with him long term, with no idea anything was wrong? Probably, and the thought made her shiver.

_______________________

The debriefing was just as much fun as Sam had expected.

‘Wait,’ Cam interrupted her story. ‘Ba’al was _also_ in the sarcophagus?’

Sam grimaced. ‘Yes, he was hiding in the complex and didn’t manage to get out when we activated the failsafe.’

‘You were trapped in the sarcophagus, for two days, with _Ba’al_?’ asked Cam.

‘Bet that was fun.’ Vala elbowed Daniel, who glared at her.

Sam hurriedly explained that she hadn’t actually been awake _all_ the time, because it kept activating. She concentrated on the main points only; relieving the experience was _not_ on her to-do list. The sarcophagus addiction was bad enough, but that she’d had suffer through it while up close and personal with Ba’al… Sam remembered his breath on her neck and shivered.

‘So,’ she concluded. ‘I was on Ba’al’s Al’kesh for less than half an hour when he beamed me back down. The dress…’ Sam felt her face burn, but she felt she should offer an explanation. ‘I think the dress was Ba’al’s idea of a joke, he could have sent me back immediately, but he got me to wear Goa’uld clothes first.’

‘Sounds like the Ba’al I know,’ Vala commented.

‘You had an eventful few days there, Colonel,’ said Landry and gave her a respectful nod. ‘It’s good to see you back on your feet.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Sam said, ‘but that’s not all. I’m sure Ba’al’s planning something. He was in that area for a reason, and his Jaffa were off in the Al’kesh completing a task while Ba’al was off the planet. Whatever it was, Ba’al made sure I didn’t get so much as a hint and you know how much he likes to brag.’

‘Something big, then,’ said Cam.

‘Or something he _thinks_ is big,’ rebutted Daniel.

‘Either way…’ Sam shrugged. ‘I think we need to check it out, see if any of our contacts know anything. The last few things Ba’al’s been after could have had some pretty big consequences.’

‘You can say that again,’ Cam agreed. ‘Merlin’s weapon, the Dakara superweapon, Adria…’

‘I don’t think we’ve seen all the consequences from Adria yet,’ Daniel said and Sam winced. Daniel knew the threat from an Ascended being better than anyone, but they were all familiar with the havoc Anubis had wrought. ‘On that note… I think we should be more worried about the progression of the Priors.’

‘Hmm.’ Landry turned to Sam. ‘We heard of another planet that’s been wiped out while you were missing.’

Sam absorbed the news and sighed. The Ori’s army was spreading across the galaxy and destroying everyone that didn’t bow down. Something had to be done… and wasn’t that the problem that had swayed her sarcophagus addicted mind into thinking joining Ba’al was a good idea? Not that it _was_ a good idea, Sam reminded herself; they weren’t that desperate. Not yet.

‘Any survivors?’ she asked. ‘Can we offer aid?’

‘No survivors,’ said Landry grimly.

‘Basically,’ Cam said, handing around files. ‘This is the picture of known planets that are now supporting the Ori. We know at least half of these are coerced and would turn given the chance, but we’d need a pretty damn good chance to offer them.’

‘And these are the ships we know of?’ asked Vala plucking a map from the file and waving it in the air.

‘Of one section of the galaxy,’ Sam corrected, looking at her own copy of the map.

‘Gotta assume we don’t know of them all,’ Cam said. ‘But this is our most recent intel. Not that it’s doing us any good; we’re still getting are asses kicked.’

Sam nodded, but felt they hadn’t really addressed what she’d been trying to get across.

‘What about Ba’al?’ she asked. ‘I’m telling you, he was nosing around that system for some reason, and it wasn’t just for Ra’s temple.’

‘We don’t have the resources to hunt across the galaxy for an ex-System Lord and his clones without any leads,’ Landry said. ‘I agree he’s a threat, but until we can deal with the Priors, who we _know_ will eventually come here, the hunt for Ba’al and his clones can’t be our top priority.’

Sam understood what he was saying, even agreed with most of it, ‘We _can_ contact our allies though? Warn them he might be up to something.’

‘We can and we will,’ Landry confirmed. ‘But, hell, Ba’al’s _always_ up to something, so I don’t think it will be a big shock to them.’

Sam realised she’d have to accept that. A few years ago, she would have found it hard to believe that a threat from a Goa’uld System Lord didn’t take priority, but now…

Daniel shrugged at her. ‘It won’t even _matter_ what Ba’al’s trying to do unless we can stop the Priors, but I think I might have finally found the key to defeating them.’ He brought up a picture on the projector screen. ‘It’s called; the Ark of Truth.’


End file.
